


Be Still

by RetroactiveCon



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asexual Mick Rory, Dom/sub, Kneeling, M/M, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “C’mere.”Mick’s voice never really brooks an argument, but that’s indisputably his Dom voice. Barry bolts to his side, dropping the Rubik’s cube as he goes. “Yes, Sir?”“On your knees.” Mick clicks his fingers and points at the floor. Barry drops to his knees without a second thought.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Mick Rory/Leonard Snart
Comments: 6
Kudos: 149





	Be Still

Barry is jittery. This is a common occurrence, and he has a well-developed set of coping mechanisms (run laps of the city being his favorite). However, it’s his first time getting jittery with his Doms around to see, and he has no idea what they’re going to do. 

“You look like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin,” Len drawls. He’s sitting on the table, scrutinizing a blueprint spread out beside his thigh. When he speaks, he looks up and gives Barry one of those playful smirks that does nothing to calm him down. “I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?” Barry grabs a Rubik’s cube and starts solving it at superspeed. He doesn’t even like Rubik’s cubes very much, but he needs the stimulation or he’s going to lose his mind. “And what do you do to make it stop?”

Len nods at Mick, who’s sitting in the armchair watching the fire. “Hey, Mick,” he calls. “Got any advice for a keyed-up speedster?”

Mick twists around to look at the two of them. When he catches sight of Barry, who feels like he must be a little blurry around the edges, he sets his jaw and points at a spot near his chair. “C’mere.”

Mick’s voice never really brooks an argument, but that’s indisputably his Dom voice. Barry bolts to his side, dropping the Rubik’s cube as he goes. “Yes, Sir?”

“On your knees.” Mick clicks his fingers and points at the floor. Barry drops to his knees without a second thought. His mind whirls with images of what Mick might make him do. He’s kneeling and he needs stim, is Mick going to let him suck his cock? 

It takes him a second to realize that he’s whining under his breath. “Please please please please please…”

“What?” Mick’s eyes drop to Barry’s thighs, which are parting in desperation the longer he sits without an order. There’s no real change in Mick’s expression or tone; only his dissatisfied grunt gives any clue to how irritated he is with Barry’s squirming. “Told ya before, doll, I don’t do that, and it’s not what you need anyway. You’re gonna close your legs, shut your mouth, and be still.”

Barry’s whining pitches up, louder and more desperate. Mick can’t possibly think this is what he needs! He needs to burn off some of this energy. Kneeling and being still feels like it will make him explode.

Mick grabs his hair and tugs him closer. “None of that,” he grunts. “Now be a good little doll.”

Mick’s hand stays tangled in his hair. He could get free, he reminds himself. He could take off running, burn off some of this energy, and go back, maybe before Mick realizes he’s gone. (Even if Mick realizes, the punishment will be worth it.) Getting free would hurt, though—he’s effectively trapped unless he wants to hurt himself. Something about that thought lodges in his brain, making him melt into Mick’s grasp. He’s trapped. He’s trapped, and it’s…calming.

This realization is all Barry needs to feel the last of his jittery energy melt away. His shoulders slump and he drops slightly forward, just enough that Mick’s hand pulls on his hair and gives him a twinge of pain. Mick makes a soft, satisfied noise.

“Good doll.”

Barry smiles. He’s good. He’s calm. He’s _safe_ , here at his Dom’s feet. "Thank you, Sir."

“Hey.” Mick twists around to look at Len. Barry considers sitting up more and trying to follow his gaze, but he’s so melty and happy that it isn’t worth the effort. “Bring me a bowl of berries for our doll, would ya?”

“Bossy,” Len singsongs, but there’s the faint plasticky sound of berry boxes. Barry loses track of what’s happening until Len’s socked feet appear in his line of vision. “There you go. Oh, look at our sweet Scarlet.” Len’s hand joins Mick’s in Barry’s hair. Barry purrs and smiles. He’s being sweet for his Doms. 

Mick reaches out, loops an arm around Len’s waist, and pulls him into his lap. “Yeah, and I think you need some time outta your head, too.”

“Oh really?” Len’s voice hitches in a way that Barry has only ever heard happen with Mick. 

“You’re as mouthy as him,” Mick laments. Barry whimpers. He’s mouthy? He doesn’t mean to be mouthy. He wants to be good, he just sometimes doesn’t know what’s good for him… “Easy, doll. You’re good.” Mick feeds him a raspberry and pets his cheek in reward. 

Barry eats his berry contentedly. He’s good. Mick says so. Nothing else matters. 

Mick goes back and forth feeding both of them (and, as is fair, occasionally sneaking bites for himself). Barry freefalls into a warm, pretty headspace almost immediately and stays there, but he gets to watch Len sink into a comfortable headspace breath by breath. By the time the bowl is empty, Len is curled with his head tucked in the crook of Mick’s neck, making little happy noises every time Mick feeds him a berry. 

“So cute,” Mick rumbles. He brushes his fingertips over Len’s cheek. “Both of you.”

Barry leans against Mick’s thigh. He’s so comfortable. Everything is hazy and good and he could stay in this headspace for the rest of forever.

Len’s eyes drift open. When he speaks, his voice is drowsy-soft but coherent. “Mick, our boy has… _hmm_ …been very good. I wanna reward him for that.”

Mick pulls away from him just enough to look at his face. “You telling me or asking permission?”

Len smiles and curls his fingers in Mick’s shirt. “I can’t do both at once?” When Mick grumbles, Len clarifies, “I want you to tell me what to do, but I won’t ask you to do that if you’re not in the mood.”

“Never done that with a third,” Mick reminds him. Barry makes a curious little noise. “Yeah, that’s you, doll.”

Len snorts. “Okay, I’ll give you that, but I think we’ll find our way.” He leans over and pets Barry’s cheek. “What do you think, Scarlet? You want me to take you to bed?”

Barry stares. He understands the question, or thinks he does, but how can he make that call? Everything feels so good right now…but it could feel even better if he lets Len play with his body…but it sounds like Mick doesn’t want to be involved…No, too many factors. He’s too hazy to make a good decision. His Doms are much smarter than he is. They can decide.

“Come here, pretty Scarlet.” Len beckons him up. Mick makes a noise of protest. 

“Nope. You’re squashing me. I don't have room for him too.”

Both of them stand up. Len reaches down, takes Barry’s hands, and helps him to his feet. “Come on, Scarlet. I promised you a treat.”

Barry nestles into Len’s arms and lets him lead the way to the bedroom. Mick trails a step behind them, one hand braced in the small of Barry’s back. He feels so safe and happy like this that he can’t imagine anything being a better treat. 

When they reach the bedroom, Len strips Barry out of his clothes and eases him down onto the bed on his back. Mick helps Len undress, looks him over, and praises, “Still cute. Now get on the bed.”

Len settles between Barry’s legs, strokes gentle hands over his thighs, and leans down to whisper, “We play this game sometimes when I get needy—I’m on the bed, Mick in the chair, and I can only do as he tells me, no getting inventive. I think we’ll change up the rules a little since I’ll be hands-on with you, but that’s the gist.”

Barry glances at Mick, who’s settled in yet another armchair. (They have them all over the house because Mick likes to be cozy.) He'd gotten the impression Mick is absolutely neutral about sex—will talk about it frankly, isn’t put off if he walks in on it, but doesn’t deliberately want to watch or get involved. He lacks the words to articulate any of this, so he hopes the confused staring gets his point across. 

“Mick, I think our little doll is confused about your role.”

Mick shrugs. “Doesn’t do anything for me. I just like telling him what to do.” He points at Len, who grins and ducks his head. “Getting to see him obey’s better than being part of the sex. And seeing you obey now, too, doll.” He tilts his head. “Speaking of, why aren’t you kissing him?”

“Bossy,” Len mumbles before leaning down and peppering little close-mouthed kisses over Barry’s lips. When Barry fusses, he cups a hand against his jaw, rubs little circles with his thumb to coax him to relax, and kisses him properly. 

“Touch him,” Mick coaxes. “Be gentle.”

Obediently, Len trails his hands over Barry’s shoulders, down his sides, over his belly. Every touch is bliss. Barry is so floaty-happy, and he’s being touched and he’s good. He must be good. Len is being so sweet with him, he must be good.

“Not there,” Mick scolds when Len’s hands detour between Barry’s legs. Barry fusses. He was so good and not aroused even a little bit after kneeling so patiently, but Len’s teasing, however brief, makes him eager again. No. No, Mick didn’t like that earlier. He’s being _bad,_ disrespecting his Doms’ limits…

“Shh.” Len kisses along his jaw. “You’re okay, Scarlet. Mick likes to make me tease. And…” He pauses to suck a bruise into Barry’s neck. “You’re so responsive, it’s infinitely more fun to play with you than with me.”

Barry catches sight of a small, fleeting smile on Mick’s face. “Like he said, doll. You're being good for me. I just like to tease.”

Oh. Okay, he’s still good. Barry relaxes and smiles at them both, unable to think of how to thank them otherwise.

“You’re so drifty, Scarlet.” Len strokes his hair. “It’s adorable, and it makes me want to fuck you until you cry.”

“Guess you better start, then,” Mick rumbles. He gets up long enough to grab a bottle of lube and hand it to Len. “Go slow.”

Len grins. “Of course.”

Barry doesn’t anticipate exactly how slow Len intends to go. He spends so long teasing Barry’s hole with just a fingertip—playing with his rim, flirting with the idea of pushing inside only to back off and make Barry whine—that by the time he starts fingering him in earnest, Barry is a mewling mess. 

“Maybe not that slow,” Mick admits. For once, it doesn’t sound like an order, merely a suggestion. This is probably why Len doesn’t heed it; he spends just as much time fingering Barry open. He seems to take particular joy in switching between avoiding Barry’s prostate as best he can and targeting it relentlessly until Barry is squirming on the edge of orgasm.

“Please, Sir.” Somehow, Barry thought Len was unaffected. When he manages to open his eyes, he finds him staring, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated. Out of curiosity, Barry makes another needy noise and gets to watch the little shiver it sends through Len. “Let me fuck him.”

“Aren’t you?” Mick nods at where Len’s fingers are moving inside Barry. 

This time, both of them whine. He’s playing with them. Only Len is coherent enough to say, albeit in a slightly snappish tone, “ _Please_ may I put my cock in him, Sir?”

“Yeah.” Mick nods. As Len slicks himself up, he adds, “And be faster this time.”

Len takes his time pushing inside despite Barry’s whimpers for him to move faster. There’s no pain: he’s stretched and slick and more than ready, and he doesn’t see any need for Len to go so slowly. Once he’s inside, he gives Barry a moment to adjust; then he starts to move in a steadily-increasing pace that makes Barry scrabble at the sheets for purchase. If he doesn’t hold onto something, he’s going to come without permission and that would be bad…

“Kiss him,” Mick orders. “Quiet him down.”

Obediently, Len leans down and presses their lips together. They’re both panting so much that it’s barely a kiss; their lips slide together, slick and sloppy and artless. Barry keeps moaning, but it’s muffled now. Somehow it only makes him feel more helpless, that he can’t even make noise to get their attention.

“Come,” Mick orders. 

Barry hitches his hips up, seeking friction. Len reaches down and wraps a hand around him, giving him a few clumsy, overeager strokes that finally send him over the edge. 

When Barry’s eyes open, Len has moved. Mick is between them on the bed, an arm around each of them. He gives Barry a quick, awkward kiss when he sees his eyes open. “Hey, doll. Len broke ya.”

Barry nods, responding more to the gentle tone than the words. Mick laughs gruffly and says, “You were good. Both of ya.”

Len mumbles something incoherent on Mick’s other side. With a conspiratorial glint in his eye, Mick leans in and confides, “If he can’t talk after, I did it right.”

The next mumble isn’t any more intelligible but sounds markedly more annoyed. Barry giggles, reaches across Mick’s chest, and takes Len’s hand. So Mick doesn’t feel left out, he shifts to put his head more securely on Mick’s chest and listen to his heartbeat. Mick hums contentedly, and the reverberations in his chest make Barry purr in return. 

“You’re both good,” he praises them, tightening his arm around Barry's shoulders. 

Barry taps Mick’s chest and holds up two fingers. 

“Me too?” Mick chuckles and drags his fingers through Barry’s hair. “Cute little doll. If you can’t talk from this, just wait ‘til you see the stuff Len wants to try with you.”

Barry makes a soft, pleased sound. Mick probably means it to scare him, but he isn’t scared. If they want him to fall apart for them, he trusts them enough to let that happen.

Len squeezes Barry’s hand and murmurs, “So good for us, Scarlet.”

He squeezes back and burrows closer to both of them to rest a little more.


End file.
